Never Have an Outlaw's Baby: Deadly Pistols MC Romance (Outlaw Love) (43 page)

Seeing those features, wide and full of hate, were just as bad as if it was Anton himself. I ripped the file out of my uncle's hands and held it to my face, forcing my eyes open, letting seething tears fall down the sides of the old documents.

“That's Boris Vassarinivich Ivankov. First generation, first real thug here after the Soviet Union collapsed. Former head of their family. Every branch of the Russian mafia's infamous for letting their commanders fire the first shot when they go to war. Well, this boy did, and he decided to go after the most vulnerable, innocent target he could. He struck down poor Allison. The medical report at the back says she was dead before she hit the concrete, but I know the bastard ran her over twice just to be sure. He wasn't fucking around. He was gunning for her.”

His hand slid down my shoulder, smoothing my back, just the way good old Uncle Gioulio used to do. I'd never forgive him for putting down my father, but I didn't turn his comfort away.

He held me when I dropped the file, rocked me until I stopped shaking.

I was drowning right there in his arms, suffocating in the invisible quicksand pulling me into its fierce undertow. I wanted to die. But first, I wanted to make sure the assholes who'd truly stabbed me in the back found their way to hell first.

My whole body felt dirty. To think I'd relished fucking an Ivankov man with such lust, such insatiable need...

I turned my head up to the ceiling as far as I could, anything to stop the vertigo, one wrong breath away from forcing me to throw up.

“You've seen enough. The rest is all history, as they say, my niece.” His voice was soft and understanding. “Don't cry. We all spent months grieving her. That's behind us. Your old man couldn't ever put it behind him. He started killing himself recklessly, surely, pushing that shit into his veins every second he was awake.”

“Then why? What's the point of all this? You just want to turn me back to you.”

He blinked, looking strangely hurt. My uncle slipped away, rounded the desk, and plopped back down in front of me. “I want you to work for this family, Brina. Not me. I know I've lost your love doing what I had to do to my poor brother. Fucking kills me to this day. But I'd do it all over again if he was about to fuck you over in a junkie rage or drive you off a bridge some cold night.”

“And how do I do that? I already helped the Ivankovs without even knowing it until you showed me what was really going on. They used me.”

There. I said it.

I wanted to say
he
used me. I should've known the fucked up whirlwind romance was too good to be true, built on Stockholm Syndrome from the very beginning. Like a good little slave, I'd trusted him, worked for him.

Nothing else. Anton really had
used me
, taken me for his pleasure, and then threw me back at my uncle like a poisoned dart.

How could I believe anything else? My insides were too turned out and fried to even think about pressing Gioulio about Club Duce again. It was hard to care if the men Anton killed in that bombing were bastards or not. It wouldn't change a thing.

I
knew –
knew beyond all reasonable doubt – that he was a demon for doing this. The same as his brothers, the same as his father for murdering my innocent mother. And, of course, the very same as the dark eyed man folding his hands and leaning in across from me.

“Brina, look at me. Don't make this about egos. I know I'm not. I'm going to keep loving you no matter how you feel about me, the same way Giovanni would've wanted. I hurt you. I kept secrets, hoping to keep you on my side. I know I can't do that anymore. I realize I fucked up.”

“You're right,” I said, pushing my heels together, getting ready to stand. “As soon as you tell me it's safe to leave this house, I'm gone. I'm taking every last penny he left me and going far, far away from all this. I'll send you a postcard from London or Paris or San Diego. I haven't decided yet. Or maybe I'll decide it's better we never speak again.”

Uncle Gioulio's face darkened. He cracked his knuckles. “All within your rights, niece. If that's what you'd really like to do, then I won't stop you.”

Too easy. Well, as easy as easy could be when my heart battered my ribcage, wanting to leap out, trying to kill the bitter, throbbing lump of pain it had become and take me with it.

“It's a shame. I can see the future laid out in front of me,” he said quietly. “Everything's going to pieces, and there's nothing I can do to stop it. I'll send my boys after the Russians, but those bastards will have some idea what's coming when you don't pick up the burner phone I found in your purse and dial them up. We'll fight. We'll kill each other. I'll lose a few guys and kill more of theirs, maybe take out one of the brothers, if I'm lucky. Anton, that fucking roach, he'll get to me eventually. He's the most expendable one. The bastard's got a statewide manhunt on his ass, and he'll come screaming in for vengeance if I off Lev or Daniel first.”

He paused, shook his head. “So much blood's waiting. It's not like I haven't lived through it all before, but fuck, a guy shouldn't be dealing with this in his old age. I ought to be retiring, passing this shit down to somebody younger.”

The asshole looked at me. I knew exactly what he was thinking. No way.

Fuck no. I wanted absolutely no part of this insane business. I totally meant everything I said about packing up and putting as many miles between myself and Chicago as I could without heading all the way to Antarctica.

“You could make this easier, Brina.”

“I'm not helping you,” I snapped.

It was time to go, at least get out of this room and head upstairs. I stood, stomping my heels on the floor to relieve the pressure screaming through my body, heading for the door. My hand grabbed the cold steel handle and pulled.

The force nearly ripped my arm out of its socket. Uncle Gioulio was behind me, a gentle hand on my back.

“It's locked. Here, let me.” He took his sweet time reaching for the keys in his pocket. “I'm not the one asking you for a favor, niece. Yeah, I'm the dirty bastard down here whispering in your ear, but these aren't my words.”

What? I looked at him cautiously, wondering if reliving all this trauma had driven him insane. I couldn't be sure I was going to walk out of this room with all my marbles still intact.

“Who is it?” I asked, cringing as I did, knowing I didn't
really
want to know but couldn't help myself. “If it's not you talking, then who?”

Uncle Gioulio hesitated, jingling the keys in one hand. “Your parents.”

Rage shot through me. He saw me twitch, broke eye contact, and pushed the key into the lock.

“Fuck you, uncle,” I growled. “Mama and papa would've wanted me to get away from all this. Not bury myself deeper.”

I was out. He didn't follow me, but the deep, dim lit staircase had some really strange acoustics. If I wasn't scared to death of falling backwards and breaking my neck, I would've taken my hands off the old railing and covered my ears when he yelled after me, drowning out his hateful voice.

“The only voices screaming at us here are
two
of our flesh and blood! I tried to be nice, I tried to show you, Brina. I tried to press on, even when you were breaking my heart, and you're still so fucking blind. You're going to let the Ivankov brothers walk with our blood on their hands. I see it now. I was wrong about you, niece – so wrong it's killing me. You're a coward!”

No! I couldn't listen to this anymore.

I ran like a madwoman up the stairs, snarling and climbing, punching through the door and clawing at the smooth floor when I was finally through. I ran past the two goons who looked up with concern when they saw me coming. They wouldn't pursue unless Uncle Gioulio told them to.

I headed straight for the guest room and turned the locks. Part of me wanted to get a driver and return to my condo, but I was just as much a prisoner there as I was here. I wouldn't be away from his evil influence until I was out of the city.

Even then, I wondered if I'd ever be free. The deafening beat in my head drummed me to sleep, echoing with the last shot he fired into me, showing me his true face.

Coward. Coward. Coward!

I hated him so much. But in the darkness, I hated Anton even more. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw myself bracing for his sickening touch. Sex brought us close, gave me an opportunity to use him the same way he'd used me.

The weapon I dreamed about was always different. Sometimes it was a handgun, which I picked up, pressed to his rock hard chest, and fired. Other times, it my uncle's switchblade, and I slid it across the Russian's throat when he tried to give me one of those heart stopping kisses.

Up until then, I'd never truly wanted to kill a human being with such gruesome need. Guess it ran in the blood.

When I woke up, something like a bad hangover fogged my brain, I told myself I'd never let my uncle call me a coward again. He'd never get to speak for my poor dead parents either.

He'd get his blood war, his vengance, and then he'd never get anything from me again. The bastard was right – there was no leaving and getting on with my life until I knew the men who'd used me and betrayed me were destroyed.

I was going to kill Anton Ivankov, and both his psycho brothers too, if luck was kind.

H
is goons gave
me the evil eye the next day. Still, they didn't stop me from knocking at the door to his study.

Uncle Gioulio's kinder eyes met me as soon as he opened the door. Overnight, his Hyde retreated back into his inner Jekyll, and now he was playing the kindly old uncle again.

“Brina, listen, I've got to apologize for last –“

“No need. I'm not here for your sympathy.” I pushed my way past him, taking a seat in the big leather chair across from his desk.

“I meant everything I said yesterday evening. I'm going to take my inheritance and leave this city. As uncle and niece, we're done. We're not family anymore.”

Pain throbbed in my heart just to say it, but only for an instant. What little respect and love I had left for my uncle died last night. But you can't stop loving anyone completely all at once – unless you start hating them instead.

And right now, that's all that kept me moving.

Uncle Gioulio's face dropped to the ground as he sat. “What is it you want? You're facing me for a reason.”

“Before I leave and try to forget about all this, I want to do right by this family, the ones who're gone. You're right. This isn't about you and I. This is about mama and papa. I want them avenged just as badly as you do.”

We locked eyes. He never smiled, but I could see the satisfaction glowing in his face, a beacon in the darkness.

Uncle Gioulio stood, walked over to his liquor cabinet. Seriously? A celebratory drink this early was way too weird for my taste.

I was about to tell him to hold it right there while he was pushing bottles aside. Then he stopped, grabbed a small glass flask filled with some clear fluid, vodka or gin, and what looked like a silver needle inside, and walked back to me.

“This is the best way to kill them. The Ivankovs won't be able to resist a drink if they think you've got me by the balls.” He pushed it into my outstretched hands.

The glass was cool. The transparent stuff inside it sloshed around like any other vodka I'd seen, clear and unassuming.

“One little drop of that and they won't know what hit 'em. It's a kinder, swifter death than the bastards ever gave Gio and Allison. It'll do the job just the same.”

My fingers tightened around it, full of evil wonder. I carefully pushed it into my purse, making sure it found a safe spot.

“You'll always be a Ligiotti, niece. You can hate me until your last breath, and I won't blame you, but you know blood and heartache, just as I do. Take it. Slip it to them carefully. Cut the chains that'll try to hold you here forever. Avenge
them
the way I couldn't.”

I couldn't stop him from embracing me one more time. There wasn't a hint of warmth and I almost shivered in his arms. When I pulled away, Uncle Gioulio was still looking at me with those sad, knowing eyes, a thousand thanks whirling in his dark pupils.

We'd never be family again in the proper sense, but we had ourselves an understanding.

I spent another twenty minutes with him and his guys, talking about the logistics of how I'd get back to the Ivankov's estate without drawing suspicion. He gave me a tattered white coat – the same rumpled one that belonged to mama the night she was struck down – and I was on my way.

Anton tricked me, used me, sent me to sabotage my uncle for nothing but his own disgusting gain. His poison was love and lust, and now it mutated in my veins, becoming as bitter and intoxicating as the toxin stowed in my bag.

I was returning to him as a weapon. I'd deceive him the same way he wrecked me with his lies.

It was time for the bastard to pay.

I
t was nine o'clock
. Second day since my girl went missing, and I was ready to wring Daniel's neck for the dozenth time.

The fucking bug hadn't lived up to expectations. Sabrina and Gioulio's voices were garbed, and the last thing we heard before it went dead was crashing and arguing. Fuck.

“Back off, Anton. Don't make me hit you again brother,” Lev growled, putting up his fists in warning.

Asshole. We were roughly the same strength, but he wasn't fighting for her the way I was. Fuck, Daniel was pretty strong too, especially when he knew he'd be fighting for his own life if we didn't find out what the hell happened – and soon.

“Shut the fuck up! This is his fault, and you know it. You're a cocksucker for protecting him.” I stormed to the other side of the great hall, pacing from end to end like a caged tiger.

“You're not in your right mind,
brat.
That bitch got underneath your skin. Fuck, for all we know, she was playing you the whole time. You let her go, she dumped the bug, and now she's probably given us up to the fucking Italians.”

That did it. I spun, came pounding right at him. Our bodies slammed together like colliding trains and Daniel was dragged into the melee.

Too bad we'd all gotten that Ivankov gene for big muscles and fists of fury. Two against one. I didn't have a chance, but I fought like a goddamned devil.

All I knew was the sweet crunch of my knuckles slapping flesh and bone. I swung, kicked, and thrashed 'til my arms went numb, same as I always did in a brawl like this. Except it never got that far.

Daniel got a choke hold not long after I pounded his face, hard enough to leave a black eye. Lev tackled me while I was struggling to get my brother's arm off my throat. He slammed both fists into my stomach. The wind was right outta me like a ton of bricks landing on my chest.

I couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. Daniel maintained his death lock, leaned down, and whispered in my ear.

“Don't make us knock you unconscious, brother. Calm the fuck down. Stop taking this all so personally. She could've done it to anybody.”

Damn if I didn't start struggling again with what little energy my body had left.

Sabrina hadn't stabbed me in the back – I wouldn't fucking believe it! There were a thousand reasons why that goddamned spy chip he put on her could've went dead, and these assholes were fixated on only one. Betrayal.

“Come on, Anton. Knock it the fuck off. We need you to save that shit for later if the Ligiotti's goons come storming in here.”

“They won't!” I snarled, feeling my ribs creak when I spoke. “Your heads are so far up your asses you'd think your own guts were trying to strangle you. There's nobody coming. We're the fuckups for laying here like rats while they've taken her, taken my girl.”

“Your girl?” Lev wiped his bloody nose. “Prison fucked you up, brother. Dunno why the hell you can't see it. You went head over heels for the first piece of pussy that landed in your bed, and she fucked you over. You should've let us handle her.”

My fists slapped the floor. I fought like hell to get up and bust his fucking jaw for saying that, but Daniel held me down, giving the back of my skull a good crack against the hard floor.

“None of us are thinking rationally. That goes for you too, Lev.” He looked up, as if trying to smooth shit over. “What we need here is patience. We've got to buckle down and wait instead of tearing each other to pieces, dammit. Just wait, brothers. The crew we sent out to the city will tell us
something
soon.”

Bastard. Always the voice of reason, even when I'd just come within a hair trigger of fracturing his damned eye socket. My fists were still seething, ready to beat and blind and kill, when he finally let me up.

Breathing without his fat arm around my throat was amazing. But it still wouldn't come easy, not even twenty minutes later when I sat in the chair, rolling out the latest knots in my arm with the table's edge. I'd never breathe easy 'til she was back in these arms, safe and fucking sound.

She shouldn't have gone out with nothing more than a secret bug and a burner phone. And I was the asshole who sent her, the fuck who'd let my brothers get away with this bullshit compromise, tracking her like a goddamned animal.

All three of us eyed each other like hungry wolves hovering over a lone rabbit.

A knock at the door shattered the tense silence. I was the first one up, beating my brothers to the big door.

It swung open, revealing old Grigor in his prim suit. I nearly bowled him over heading for the small, broken looking thing behind him.

“She just showed up on our doorstep,” I heard him say, and then I stopped listening to anything at all.

“Sabrina!” Her name bounced off the high ceiling as I scooped her up, threw my arms around her, and crushed her in my embrace.

Shit. She'd appeared outta the darkness right when I needed her like an honest-to-fuck angel. I squeezed her tight, forcing myself to understand she was real, wondering why the hell she wasn't grabbing me back.

“Damn it, babe, I thought you were a goner. What happened? They didn't hurt you?”

“I got away,” she said coldly. “Uncle Gioulio welcomed me back at first, but he started to get suspicious pretty fast. He kept me in a room at his house, posted guards outside. I managed to sneak out, hail a taxi. Here I am.”

She pulled away. Too cold, too tired, too defeated for my liking. Hearing her say that shit was like listening to a dull recording.

What the fuck's going on here? And where the hell did she get that mangled, ugly ass coat?

My eyes slid up and down the weird thing draped around her shoulders. It was an overstuffed winter coat that looked like it'd seen better days. I didn't like looking at it, and not just because it covered up that bitching body my cock was starting to pine for all over again. It was jagged, dirty, one shoulder coming apart at the seams.

“Babe.” She flinched when I reached out and grabbed her chin.

My fingers dug in harder. I forced her to look at me, all while the voices behind me went dead silent. My brothers were watching the scene with Grigor.

Lev approached, fists balled at his sides. “You'd better sit her down. Make her start talking. If this bitch has betrayed us...”

I spun, dragging poor Sabrina with me. He stopped mid-sentence. Our cold eyes met, and he was the first to break, looking away with a loud snort.

That's right. Brother or not, I promised another beating if one more word came outta his mouth. And this time, they'd have to put me in a fucking coma to stop my fists.

“She's mine. I'll do the debriefing. Neither of you fucks is patient enough to do it right.”

Patience. Motherfucking patience. I threw Daniel's word back at them and took off, leaving my brothers standing with our old head servant at the base of the stairs.

“My room. Let's go.” Sabrina moved on a little ahead of me.

I watched her walk for telltale signs of pain, injury. Nothing. Her footsteps were slow, almost reluctant, and I couldn't figure out why.

Great. Not only did I have my brothers to shut up, I needed to dig the truth outta her. I made a promise right there that anybody who did her the least harm was gonna fucking suffer.

Soon as she was in the room, I slammed the door behind me. “Babe, what's going on? We're home. You can tell me without worrying about their ears on us.”

She sat down at the edge of the big veiled bed where I'd fucked her half a dozen times. My cock stirred, and it took all my mental willpower to slap him down while I got to the bottom of this.

“My uncle's a traditional man,” she said, reaching into her purse. After a second, she pulled out a little black book, not much thicker than my thumb. “He doesn't use tablets and phones to store his schedule. Less risky that way, I suppose. I managed to swipe this before he sent me up to my room – it's his planner for the next month. At least the stuff that's on the books. The rest is coded. I couldn't figure it out, but maybe you can. Catch.”

The little book flew through the air. I slapped it between both hands and opened it.

Shit. It was Gioulio Ligiotti's handwriting, all right. I knew it from seeing our intel before, a small crabbed script in English with the odd Italian word sprinkled throughout. The black book must've been about fifty pages long, everything laid out in a calendar grid. Pretty standard for the kinda scheduling book you'd find at the drugstore or whatever.

“Holy fuck. You brought us gold, babe!” I tucked it in my pocket and walked over, hitting the bed next to her. “Christ. My brothers are gonna be so fucking happy. They'll lay off my ass and yours. We'll be able to hit him soon without the choppy doubts we had before.”

“Better make it fast,” she said, a quirky smile on her lips. “He'll realize it's gone within a few days, or else his guys will.”

“Shit, you're right. We'll get cracking on it tonight. What about you?” My eyes rolled up and down her sweet body, trying to see past the heavy, ragged thing clinging to her shoulders. “What's this shit? Something you picked up on the street?”

Her lips pursed like she'd bitten something sour. “No. It's a family heirloom. Just happened to be in the room with me where I was staying. I needed something to stay warm, and it might be my last chance to get it out.”

Hm. The girl sounded sad. Her little fingers clung to the opening, where it looked like it was missing several oversized buttons. It was the sorta jacket well off chicks were drooling over like ten years ago, if memory served. I'd hiked up a few black and purple ones in the same style and fucked the girls wearing them.

My cock jerked at the memories, but not half as hard as it lurched when I imagined doing the same thing here.

“Take that shit off. Or you want me to do it for you?”

She stiffened when I shifted, rolled on top of her, and pressed her into the mattress. She was soft and warm and sweet all over, calling me between her legs, begging me to fuck her. My body needed to show her how damned happy I was to have her back in all the way words failed to do.

I smashed my lips on hers, hungry as hell. My dick hammered in my pants, beating its way out, howling to get inside her. If I could've kissed her 'til the universe went cold and collapsed in on itself, I would've.

I wanted to tongue her, bite her, leave my lips on hers 'til we were nothing but this beautiful fucking kiss. But the primal lusts wouldn't let it be anything but a prelude to the insane storm whistling in my blood, bellowing to hold her down, rip her pants away, and fuck her and fuck her and fuck her.

Fuck!

Something's wrong. I kissed her hard enough and she moaned, but it sounded more like real pain than just rough lust talking. I reared up, fisted her hair, and held her in a ferocious grip.

“What the fuck happened out there, babe? What's wrong? Talk to me. I'm not gonna read your fucking mind. Did he hurt you?”

My veins were about to explode and collapse. All this lust was churning with pure rage now, confusion and frustration. I'd never seen her look like this – not even when I held her here the first night after the big break.

“Uncle Gioulio told me some things,” she said, pulling away from my hand.

I had to let her go. It was either that or she'd tear out a huge clump of hair. Pissed, I darted up, stood over her, heartbeat thudding so damned hard I felt all the fresh bruises on my skin left by Lev and Daniel.

“What things? Don't tell me that piece of shit's got you all mixed up again. He's a manipulative fucking snake, the worst kind this city's ever seen. What did he say?” I got up in her face, trying not to scream.

Christ. God fucking damn it.

If that freak turned her against me, then I really had my work cut out. I was already gonna kill him the worst way I could, but this shit meant I had to think of something sicker, crueler, ten times more painful.

My hands landed on both her shoulders and shook her. A hot diamond tear drop slid down one of her beet red cheeks and she pinched her eyes shut.

“I can't help you if you don't fucking talk to me, babe! Come on! What did that bastard say? Whatever shit he's been shoveling into your pretty head, it isn't true!”

She coughed, sputtered, started to struggle like she was really hurt just by having my hands on her. Fuck!

I ripped myself away from her, stumbling over a shoe lace that had come loose. I caught my balance, crossed the entire room, and kicked the chair next to her vanity. It went flying across the fucking room and one leg smashed beneath the window.

Idiot.

Sabrina was bawling. This shit wasn't helping, but my anger and frustration was off the charts. When the waterworks stopped and she looked at me with open eyes, she stared at me like I'd killed her own mother.

What. The. Fuck.

“Just...just give me a minute. We need to have a drink,” she sighed. “I'll calm down after that. We'll talk.”

Fine. I'd play along, though the thought of pouring liquor down my throat right now was like dumping fuel on a roaring fire.

I marched to the cabinet and opened it. Grabbed two shot glasses and the finest vodka in there. When I got back to the bed, Sabrina was holding a little bottle in one hand, looking at it.

“What's this?” I ripped it outta her hands before she could protest.

No label. I opened the cap and sniffed. Didn't smell like any fine stuff I'd ever known. It was almost slightly sour, vinegary.

“Something else I swiped from the house – an ancient family recipe. We only bring it out on special occasions, and I think this qualifies. Let's have a little, maybe mix it with the other stuff.” She pointed at the big bottle I was still holding.

I nodded. “I like your thinking. Hope to fuck whatever's got you in knots is good news.”

Honestly, the stuff in the little bottle smelled like shit. I'd down it to humor her – whatever made this chick feel better. I'd do anything to pry the stone cold truth outta her.

I walked everything over to the small stand next to the bed. Poured out two tall shots with just a splash of the shit she'd brought on top. If it tasted as shitty as it smelled, dousing it in the good stuff would drown out the crap.